


Stay Like This Forever

by battalions (Mina)



Category: Brand New
Genre: F/M, Het
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-02-03
Updated: 2012-02-03
Packaged: 2017-10-30 13:39:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,898
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/332330
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mina/pseuds/battalions
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Companion piece. Set between the summers of 1996 and 2000.</p><p>Told in a series of vignettes inspired by the official (but not accurate) lyrics to “<a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zDBp2SFIp8M">Soco Amaretto Lime</a>” from Brand New’s <em>Your Favorite Weapon</em>. Mainly focuses on the six months after Jesse, John, and Annie graduate high school, but includes moments that span the following four years.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Stay Like This Forever

**Author's Note:**

> Present tense, third-person limited. Not strictly canon.
> 
> Companion piece to [Still and Storm](http://archiveofourown.org/works/332307).
> 
> [Originally posted](http://stories.mibba.com/read/370473/Stay-Like-This-Forever/) on [Mibba](http://mibba.com) on March 28, 2011.

**_Cut me open._ **

“So what do you think?” Annie asks Jesse one evening at dusk.

Farmingdale’s public high school always leaves its pole-vaulting mats out; they are big, thick things, several feet off the ground. It’s an excellent place to go to drink and talk, and as such the fact of its existence is quietly kept among groups of friends so it won’t be overrun. There is something safe about the spot: the shade from the nearby patch of trees, maybe; or how far it is from the street.

Sitting there on the edge of the mat, legs dangling over the side, Jesse and Annie are almost alone, just for the moment: Rob and Leah are kissing discreetly several feet away and Sam has gone back to the car for her hoodie. John and Peter are messing around with Pete’s skateboard on the spongy running tack that loops the football field. Jesse had been implicitly invited to join them, but he stays with Annie, as a gift and a punishment to himself.

“About what?” Jesse counters to Annie’s question. “About John’s complete lack of coordination?”

She smiles at that. Jesse isn’t quite looking at her, but his face is turned almost in her direction, and he can see the gleam of her teeth. Before, he used to think that smile was like a feral dog curling back its lip to growl; that it was a secret sign of aggression against him, letting him know that she could rip his throat out at any moment. But now he knows that isn’t what it is at all – she smiles because she wants to smile, no matter who it hurts, and Jesse should just be happy that he said something she thought was funny.

“Um, I kind of meant more broadly than that,” she says, the grin still in her voice. “You know…we just graduated high school, and – well, you’re not eighteen yet, but almost; so that’s a big deal, being officially an adult and everything – and college, and just, our lives are finally starting, you know?”

He turns that phrase over in his head, ‘our lives’. He likes it, even if it isn’t perfect; ‘our life’ would be perfect, but ‘our lives’ is still very nice, because it isn’t ‘your life’; her life is in there too, next to his, not completely separate.

“Mmm,” Jesse murmurs when he realizes he’s been silent too long. “Uh, I don’t know.” It hurts that she would invite him into a deep conversation like that. Doesn’t she know he can’t think about the future without thinking about her? But he can’t say that; they never speak of it. Never. And he doesn’t want to say the kinds of things he’d say to anyone else, because she knows they’re lies, so what’s the point? It’s hard to think she doesn’t like torturing him when she does things like this.

Maybe she just wants some reassurance. Maybe she just wants him to say something that will let her know he’ll be okay, because maybe a tiny little part of her cares if he will be or not. And he will be okay. He will. So he should just say that. But not _like_ that. Never directly. Never outright. Just implied. She knows but she doesn’t want to know.

“It’ll be interesting to start over,” he says. “Good interesting.” That works, even thought it isn’t true; he won’t be starting over, not really. Come fall he’ll still be on Long Island, still hanging out with mostly the same people he hung out with in high school. Annie is the one going off to Boston, getting a new life.

But she could _believe_ he’s starting over; that’s what’s important. She could tell herself he’s starting fresh with new girls, that this high school unrequited love thing won’t weigh him down, and maybe that will make her feel better, because maybe she cares just a tiny bit. Maybe.

**_Sun poisoned._ **

“It’s fine. Annie can sit on my lap.”

“You’re very presumptuous, you know.”

Annie says that but she sits on John’s lap anyway. Jesse moves to the middle of the backseat, and Mike climbs in, and they’re off. Annie’s leg is touching Jesse’s. Skin on skin. There’s a bag of beach towels at John’s feet, and if that was moved probably Annie’s leg wouldn’t have to press against Jesse’s, but no one moves it.

“Do you promise you’ll help me re-apply my sunscreen later?” Annie asks John.

“Yes,” John groans. Jesse can’t fathom how running hands over Annie’s back could ever feel like a chore. “You’re too paranoid about getting sunburned, you know,” John adds.

“John Boy, I could get sun poisoning and _die_ ,” Annie says, half serious and half playful.

“Sun poisoning?”

“It’s when you get so sunburned that you get dehydrated and it makes you sick,” replies Annie, all superior. She _loves_ telling people things, the condescending little bitch. Jesse finds it adorable.

“And you can die from that?”

“Theoretically,” says Annie. “I mean, you can really die of anything.”

Jesse is going to die of jealousy. He’s going to die of lying. He’s going to die of love. He’s going to die of glancing in Annie’s direction and turning away like it’s a reflex, like if he looks too long he might go blind.

“The sun’s supposed to be good for you, though. Vitamin D.”

“Too much of a good thing is always bad,” says Annie. She pushes back John’s hair from his forehead with her fingertips; Jesse just sees out of the corner of his eye. “It’s like how if you spend too much time with someone you get sick of them.”

“Are you trying to tell me something?” John asks. Half serious; half playful.

“Oh _John_ , you know I could never get sick of _you_ ,” says Annie. Jesse can tell from her tone that she’s being silly, but hearing it still makes him want to punch John in the stomach.

“Because I’m perfect in every way,” suggests John.

“And humble!”

“You know, I don’t know what it is, but sometimes I get the sense that you’re mocking me…”

“How _odd_ ,” says Annie, and the two of them start laughing; their own private laughter.

Jesse moves his head just a fraction of an inch to his left. John has one arm around Annie’s waist and the other draped across her lap. Jesse has two hands that beg to be balled into fists. He doesn’t; he can’t give away his tension. This is his secret, just his.

**_This offer stands forever._ **

“Hey,” says John upon opening the door. “You forget Allie?”

“Oh. No,” says Jesse. “She couldn’t come. She went out to dinner with her family or something.”

“Oh,” says John. He has a funny look on his face. “Rob’s not coming either.”

“So it’s just going to be you and me?”

“Well, Annie’s here.”

 _Annie’s here_. Her car isn’t in the driveway, but she’s here. She’s probably been at John’s house all day.

It’s worse than that: She’s wearing one of his T-shirts.

Jesse knows John likes the way Annie looks in his shirt; the way her breasts create little peaks in the fabric where it would’ve laid flat on John; the way the seams don’t line up with the end of her shoulders and the way the hem hangs down too far.

 _This is probably the worst week of my life_ , Jesse thinks dully. He remembers to add to himself, bitterly, _So far_.

He’d hoped Michelle would be around, but it sounds like she’s been using her parents’ vacation to stay _out_ of the house while her brother stays in it with Annie. _What if they got married?_ Jesse wonders. What if they got married and they were like this _all the time_ ; sharing a kitchen and talking about how the air conditioner is on the fritz and being so comfortable around each other that it’s practically criminal?

The three of them sit in John’s living room with the lights out to watch a movie. Jesse makes a list of reasons why it’s going to be okay.

_A) Annie’s too practical to get married young. She’ll want to finish college first, so it’ll be at least four years, and maybe they’ll break up by then. B) Annie’s going to Boston so I won’t see them when John’s visiting her, and I probably won’t see her too much when she’s home because they’ll want to spend all their time together, so after this summer I’ll hardly have to see them together at all. C) Maybe John’s horrible in bed. D) There are like five billion other people in the world out there, and half of them are girls, so there’s got to be at least one who’s enough like Annie that I can love her and she can love me, and John will be with Annie and I’ll be with the girl who loves me back. E) Annie likes John and likes being with John and it makes her happy, and that’s enough for me. F) No it isn’t, but it’s something._

“Well, I’m going to get going,” says Jesse when the night is at last winding down and he can leave without it being strange.

John nods and glances over at Annie with some kind of expectation in his eyes.

And then Jesse blurts out, “Do you need a ride?”

And for one glorious moment he imagines that she does; that he will have ten, maybe fifteen minutes alone with her, that she will speak just to him. A tiny memory for them and no one else.

“Oh – no,” says Annie. “I’m going to stay.”

Even with his hopes utterly crushed, Jesse notices – and treasures – the faint blush that rises on Annie’s cheeks. At least she’s embarrassed to indirectly tell Jesse that she’s spending the night with John; at least that.

**_New haircut._ **

Jesse comes down his driveway and finds John and Annie at the bottom of it. John is bent over looking under the hood of his car; Annie stands watching. She glances over at Jesse when he comes near.

“Hey Jesse,” she says.

“Hi,” he replies. “What’s going on?” He tries to address his friend, but John is absorbed in his task.

“John Boy thinks his car’s going to blow up or something,” Annie offers.

“I don’t think that; I think the engine’s overheated,” John says irritably.

“Whatever,” says Annie.

Jesse moves past her to stand near John, gazing down appraisingly at his engine, which is smoking slightly. He would’ve done this anyway, since he is obligated as a guy to stand around in front of a car if its hood is popped, but it also places him farther from Annie, and that’s always for the best.

John is making a face at his girlfriend. “You should know this stuff,” he says. “What if you’re driving alone and your car breaks down? What are you going to do?”

She shrugs. “Flag someone down,” she says airily. “You know; maybe show a little leg.” To demonstrate, she pulls at the hem of her knee-length skirt so it rises up to expose her thigh, and instantly Jesse fixes his gaze on the car, _don’t look don’t look don’t look_.

John laughs at this; all is forgiven. He leans into the engine again, waving his hand back and forth to try to clear away the smoke. “Fuck,” he declares. “The coolant’s low. There’s a leak. Fuck shit fuck.”

“We’ve got some in the garage,” says Jesse.

“Yeah,” John says with a sigh. “We’ll have to wait until the engine cools down, though. _Fuck_.”

“Um,” says Jesse, glancing back towards his front door. “Do you want to come in to wait?” he asks. He has to. What are they going to do, sit on the curb for twenty minutes? It’s ninety degrees out. Annie in his house, Annie in his house. She’d been in it before and he hadn’t been able to look at the chair she sat in for three days.

“Thanks, man,” says John. “Let me just put the hazards on.”

He goes around to the driver’s side, and for a moment it’s just Annie and Jesse at the end of the driveway.

“Hey,” she says, “did you get a haircut?”

Jesse reflexively runs his fingers through his newly-cropped hair. “Yeah,” he says. His mom made him get it shorter than he wanted it so that the cut would last longer.

Annie smiles encouragingly at him. “It looks nice,” she says. “I like it.”

Jesse immediately decides that he will never cut his hair this short again.

**_New bracelet._ **

It has a braided leather strap with a little silver charm hanging from it of a bird in flight. She buys it from a booth at the street fair. John offers to pay for it, but she says no. “I don’t stand behind a counter in that stupid visor for six-hour shifts so I can mooch off my boyfriend.”

She lets John do the clasp for her; lets his fingertips brush her wrist.

Annie is wearing the bracelet every time Jesse sees her for the next two weeks, which is most days. All the girls in their group love it.

One night about eight of them go walking together after leaving a diner. They go to a park and fight over who gets the swings. Jesse climbs to the top of the monkey bars, and Sam comes up and joins him, and he likes that even though he keeps looking over her shoulder to where Annie is sitting on a bench with Tina.

The bench is on the path that leads to the street; Jesse passes it when they’re all leaving. He stops when a gleam of silver catches his eye.

It’s Annie’s bracelet. It’s fallen through the slats of the bench and she’s already gone; at the head of the group, nearly at the street. Jesse’s hand twitches, ready to pick it up, but then he freezes. He imagines what will happen afterwards.

He’ll rush to catch up to his friends. He’ll tap Annie on the shoulder and she’ll turn around. He’ll hold up the bracelet and say, “This is yours, right?” She’ll glance down at her wrist in surprise, and say something like, “Oh my gosh, thank you so much! I didn’t even notice I lost it!” She’ll throw her arms around his neck in gratitude. She might ask him to put it back on for her, and hold out her bony little girl-wrist expectantly. It will be like prom night, except with six other people watching, including John.

So he leaves the bracelet where it is and continues down the path.

**_Eyeliner._ **

“Dude, you smell like a wet dog,” says Jesse.

“Fuck you,” says John in reply.

Their whole group is in Pete’s basement, and they have just come in from running around in the rain; silly teenagers that they are, desperate for a bit of poetry in their lives.

Annie and several of the girls are sitting on the floor somewhere behind the couch; Jesse is acutely aware of this but he tries to focus on the television. It doesn’t work.

“Lee, can I borrow your mirror?”

“Oh my _God_ , Annie don’t you _dare_ get pretty when the rest of us look like shit,” says Leah.

“I’m not going to get pretty,” Annie replies, and Jesse might’ve laughed at such a stupid statement if Annie’s already being pretty all the time didn’t hurt so much.

“Then what do you need a mirror for?”

“I just want to do my eyeliner. And a little mascara. That’s it.”

“No! Annie, if you redo your makeup then the rest of us have to redo ours. That’s so annoying. No one even cares.”

“Seriously, Annie, you look fine,” adds Sam.

“No,” says Annie stubbornly. “Look, if you don’t give it to me I’ll just go upstairs to the bathroom.”

Leah sighs and Jesse hears the sound of her rummaging through her bag. “Why do you even _care_?”

“My eyelashes are blonde,” says Annie, and the edge of pain in her voice hits Jesse like a slap in the face.

“Oh my God, no they’re not!” says Sam in that consoling coo girls do.

Annie sighs this time; Jesse knows exactly what Annie’s sighs sound like. “You don’t have to _lie_ ,” she says. “I _know_ they are. I mean, whatever. I just hate them. Blonde eyelashes are so creepy. It’s not a big deal; that’s why they invented eyeliner.”

“I would kill for your hair color, though,” offers Allie.

Jesse would bet everything in his pockets that Annie is rolling her eyes. “Don’t,” she says. “Being blonde’s only fun if you’re tan. Trust me.”

 _Trust me_. Trust a girl who lies every day; makes everyone think she has thick, dark eyelashes. Jesse hadn’t known she wears eye makeup, even though he knows that girls do that kind of stuff from his sisters. It makes sense, but he’d never thought of it. He had never imagined she would want to improve her appearance; that she would think she has a physical flaw. She does have one flaw: She’s an idiot. And blind. And crazy. And Jesse doesn’t even care what color her eyelashes are, and he can’t see why anyone ever would.

**_Wait forever._ **

“Jesse… Look, I’m sorry, but I really – I need to talk to John, would you mind…?”

He looks at John, sitting on the floor, staring up at him with wide, panicked eyes. They both know that John wants him to stay, to somehow protect John from what is about to happen, and they both know he can’t.

So Jesse stands up. John’s desk chair creaks loudly. He tries to think of something to say – something sympathetic or comforting or even just a response to the question Annie hasn’t quite asked, but the muscles in his jaw are frozen.

Annie is looking at him – not at John, but him – and in the second before he starts to cross the room her lips part, just slightly, as though she’s about to speak.

But Jesse forces himself to move and Annie closes her mouth. When he reaches the door he turns and looks back, just briefly.

He pauses at the bottom of the stairs, wondering if maybe he isn’t supposed to leave the house all together, and he glances into the living room and sees Michelle peering at him from an armchair with the same wide eyes her brother’d had. She knows too.

Jesse gets into his car but doesn’t start it. The heat inside is oppressive and he wants to get the car moving and get air streaming through the windows, but he’s still not sure what he’s supposed to do or where he’s supposed to go. Maybe he’s supposed to wait.

Wait for what? Wait for whom? He knows he doesn’t want to wait so he can go back and cheer up John after Annie leaves. What’s he supposed to say – she’s not worth it? I never liked her anyway?

Jesse laughs aloud in the empty car.

Waiting for Annie is a much more seductive idea. He imagines it being like prom night, except this time she won’t go back to John afterwards. But why would she be crying, if she’s the one dumping John? Or would she cry anyway, just because? It’s hard to say. Girls are tricky like that.

He’s only imaging it like prom night because that is the most intimate moment they’ve ever had together. And it always will be, because now there will be no more moments between them of any kind.

Suddenly Jesse’s heart is pounding and he’s sweating and it’s not because the car is so hot. He will never see her again. _Never_. Maybe a glimpse here and there, but not the way he has; not sitting in the same backseat or on the same couch or in the same booth and not walking down the same streets or halls and not standing outside the same movie theaters, because there are no more reasons now. Her friends in their group will see her separately, when John isn’t there, and if John isn’t there then Jesse won’t be there.

He hastily starts the car and pulls away from John’s house. If he stays there too long, intentionally or not, Annie will eventually come out and he can’t, he just can’t.

Jesse wonders about the moment when he thought she was going to speak. “Thanks”, maybe. Thanks for leaving so I can break up with my boyfriend and never have to see either of you again.

Maybe she was going to say that he should wait for her.

It’s a sick thing to tell himself; to give himself false hope like that. But it doesn’t even work. Less than a year ago he’d spent a week waiting for this moment. Less than a year ago he would’ve been driving away with a grin on his face; he would’ve counted the minutes, waiting for her to call.

He can’t pretend now, though. He knows the truth. There’s nothing. She will never call.

**_First kisses._ **

Her name is Maria and she sits next to Jesse in freshman seminar and asks to borrow a pen every single class even though sometimes he only has the one. She makes jokes about their dotty professor and the annoying girl who always has a question in response to “Okay, if no one has any questions then you can go,” and about how pointless the class is and how boring the readings are. She asks Jesse where he’s from and where he went to high school and whether he commutes or lives on campus and what he’s thinking of majoring in and what other classes he’s taking and how his weekend went.

One day after class she tells him about how her car is in the shop and her brother can’t pick her up until he gets off work and now she has to hang around campus for three hours, and Jesse says, “That sucks,” because he thinks that’s what he’s supposed to say.

“Hey, do you think you could give me a ride?” she asks. “I’m only in Amityville – you’re in Levittown, right? So that wouldn’t be _too_ far out of your way.”

In the car she fiddles with the radio and teases him for having NPR as a preset, so Jesse explains that he hardly listens to the radio, just tapes, and Maria asks what sort of music he likes. That conversation, punctuated by Maria’s directions, fills the time until they reach her house. Jesse puts the car in park to wait but Maria doesn’t pick her bag up from the floor.

“That’s so cool,” she says because Jesse has just told her about how he plays guitar. “I’ve always wanted to learn an instrument. I did violin in like, third grade, but I was awful. I’m just not cut out to be a musician, I guess.” She smiles at him. “I’m a really good dancer, though.”

“Oh,” says Jesse. He’s not sure why she would tell him that, because now he’s just thinking about her dancing in a low-cut top and that’s making conversation kind of difficult.

“So are you going to ask me out or what?” she asks.

“What?” asks Jesse, startled.

“Oh, come on. I’ve been dropping hints since we met. What’s a girl got to do? I mean – you do like _girls_ , don’t you?”

“Yes!” says Jesse, blushing now. “Maybe I just don’t like _you_ ,” he mumbles, though he knows it’s cruel.

“Yes you do,” says Maria, all confidence. “So will you please just ask me out so I can go inside?”

Jesse stares at her for second and finally notices how pretty she is. “Um…do you want to go out some time?”

“I’d love to,” she says, grinning. She’d borrowed a pen from Jesse in class that day but she pulls one out of her bag to write her phone number on his hand. He glances down at it over and over again as he drives home.

Jesse picks her up on Saturday night and they go see _Last Man Standing_ at Maria’s suggestion. Afterwards they have coffee at a diner and Jesse becomes increasingly nervous as he realizes that Maria is way out of his league. She’s really pretty and she likes action movies and she doesn’t have an obnoxious laugh. It just makes Jesse depressed, because it won’t take long for her to realize she can do better – and she _should_ do better, because Jesse has nothing to offer her. He keeps wishing against all logic that Annie will come through the door and see him sitting here on a date with a girl in a miniskirt.

They walk out of the diner slowly, both trying to prolong the night. Maria leans back against the railing of the steps, smiling at Jesse. He stands looking at her; their conversation has faded and he doesn’t know what to say. He’s pretty sure this is his chance to kiss her.

But he can’t. How can he? He’s awkward and stilted and she can’t possibly _really_ like him and if she does then she shouldn’t. So he says, “Um…I guess I’ll take you home, then?”

“Yeah, sure,” says Maria. “But could you just hold still for a second?” And she leans in and kisses him.

It makes his stomach twist and his ears burn and it’s nice; it’s a nicer kiss than he thought he’d ever have. It’s like when Amy Ross kissed him in Stuart Malkin’s basement when they were thirteen, before he even knew Annie existed.

But when they break apart and Maria grins at him, Jesse’s first thought is that he wishes Annie had been around to see that.

**_New stitches._ **

“I mean, I guess I feel sort of bad. I mean, what I said was sort of out of line. But when you think about it, it was sort of true, you know? I mean, what did she expect?”

John is lying on his bed, staring at the ceiling, and he will not shut up about Annie. Jesse is sitting on the floor of John’s room, trying to read a magazine and trying not to give away that John’s obsessive lamentations are more than just annoying.

“John –,” Jesse says irritably.

“No, but think about it. I mean, yeah, maybe I called her a slut. Which is sort of out of line. But think about it – she broke up with me because she was going away to college, right? So what do you do in college when you’re a girl with no boyfriend? You fuck a bunch of random guys. Everyone knows that. That’s just a fact.”

Jesse flinches and feels bile rising in his throat. Both he and John were brought up not to use words like that, especially when talking about girls. And in reality it’s not like Jesse doesn’t swear too, but because it’s John talking about Annie, Jesse feels righteous instead of hypocritical in his anger with his best friend.

“And she has a thing for older guys. Did I tell you that? She basically admitted to me that she has a thing for older guys while we were still dating. And that’s what it was, you know; we were in high school and she was living at home so she knew she could only date high school guys, but now that she’s off in college in Boston, you know, she can fuck whoever she wants, so I bet she’s fucking a ton of older guys. And what do you think older guys want from some eighteen-year-old girl? Not conversation. So she’s only with these guys to fuck them, and that’s slutty. So I wasn’t really wrong.”

If Annie really is sleeping around with older men or even just college guys, at least they don’t hang out with Jesse and talk about it all the time.

“Fuck,” John moans. “That’s not true. She’s smart. She’s really smart. I bet older guys _love_ talking to her. Did I tell you about the time she started talking about language acquisition and I just had no idea what the fuck she was saying? Those are the kinds of things she thinks about.” He sighs. “I bet she’s fucking one of her professors.”

“John!” Jesse snaps. “Will you shut the fuck up about it already?”

John is silent for a long moment and then he says, “I just…”

“Yeah, I know,” Jesse mumbles.

“I know I need to stop harping on it, but… I don’t know. I just hate that her last memory of me is me being such a dick.”

“Then apologize,” Jesse says. “Go see her when she comes home or something.”

“But then she’ll think I want to get back together. I mean, right? If I show up at her house – that’s pretty forward.”

“ _Do_ you want to get back together?” Jesse asks. He has the corner of a page of the magazine between his thumb and forefinger and it wrinkles under the pressure of his grip.

“No,” says John. “I mean, she’s great and everything, but there’s no way I could date her while she’s in Boston.”

“Well, you know, I hear they have this new invention called a _telephone_ …”

“No, I’ve thought about that,” groans John. “She’d hang up on me, and then I’d have to keep calling her back, and then she would think I was stalking her or something, and it’d just never work.”

Jesse sighs in frustration. “Then just…I don’t know; write her a letter.”

“A letter,” John says. “I guess… Yeah, that could work. Because she doesn’t have to open it right away, but she knows I have something to say to her. That could work.” His voice rises with enthusiasm as he speaks. “Yeah,” he says, climbing off the bed and grabbing a notebook and pen from his desk.

“Okay,” he says. “‘Dear Annie,’.” Jesse stares intently at his magazine but absorbs nothing; his entire mind is focused on the scratching of John’s pen.

“Um,” says John. “What do I say?”

Jesse gapes at his friend, slightly appalled. “How should I know?” he asks.

“Come on Jess, you’re better at these things than me.”

Casting his magazine aside, Jesse rubs his eyes and sighs. “Just…okay. Okay. Start out really humble so that if she decides to read just the first line, she’ll know you’re writing to apologize and then she’ll want to give you a chance.”

“Yeah, that’s good,” says John, but his pen remains unmoving, poised against the paper.

“Um…maybe say something like, ‘I hope you’ll read this…even though I know I don’t deserve it after how I treated you.’”

John’s pen starts up scratching again, and Jesse is fairly sure by John’s mumbling that he is copying exactly what Jesse said. That puts a funny feeling in Jesse’s stomach; to think that Annie will read his words – and that she’ll think they’re John’s.

Jesse figures that now that he’s gotten the ball rolling John will continue writing on his own, but after a few moments John stops and looks up at Jesse expectantly.

“Uh,” Jesse says, a puff of air escaping his lips. “Okay, well, you’re writing to apologize, right? So do that first, ‘First I want to apologize…’”

“Mmm,” John murmurs, scribbling away. “Okay.”

“And tell her – tell her you were hurt. You lashed out and she didn’t deserve it.”

“Mmm. That’s good.”

“She was calm and kind and you acted like a child.”

At this John gives Jesse a look, but Jesse just shrugs. “Lay it on thick,” he says. From John’s initial description of what happened and the many that have come since, Jesse is positive that Annie _was_ clam and kind and that John _did_ act like a child. “Have you actually written ‘I’m sorry’ yet?” Jesse asks. “That’s important to girls, that you actually say those exact words.”

“Okay,” says John; his pen scratches for a few seconds more. “Okay. And do I just say that? Just apologize and leave it there?”

“Well, you want her to know that you know it’s over, right?”

“Yeah, that’s true,” says John, examining the paper. “So I write…”

“Uh, say – say you understand why you can’t be together.”

“Oh, that’s good,” says John, his shoulders hunched ridiculously as he scribbles.

“You know it wouldn’t have worked between you two. She was only trying to spare you pain that would’ve come later.” Jesse picks up a plush mini-football and starts a game of toss with himself. “You were being an idiot; trying to hold onto something that was already over,” he says. “No, say ‘foolish’. ‘Foolish’ is a better word.”

John’s slow pace of writing leaves Jesse time to think in between dictating. He is aware enough of the basic principles of psychology to know that he’s probably saying things he wishes he could say to Annie himself. For a moment he panics that Annie will see Jesse’s hand in this letter – and then, with a sense of indignation, he decides he doesn’t care. He’s sick of always tip-toeing around Annie; trying to hide his feelings from her when it’s not like she doesn’t know, anyway. Of course she knows, and it’s just too damn bad that she doesn’t want to think about it, because Jesse has to think about it all the time.

Maybe she’ll write Jesse a letter back.

Jesse is snapped out of his daydreams by John’s voice. “That’s kind of a shitty note to end on, though,” he says. “Like rag on myself and just stop. She’ll think I’m looking for her to call me and cheer me up.”

“Right,” says Jesse. “Um, okay. So, say that even though you know your relationship wasn’t meant to last, you don’t regret it. You hope she doesn’t regret it either.”

John goes back to scribbling.

“You were both young, but your feelings for her were real. Er, no, ‘genuine’.” Jesse tries to throw the ball the same distance with each toss, but it’s hard to tell from this angle. “She’ll always have a place in your heart.”

This gets another look from John.

“Embrace the cheesiness,” Jesse says, his eyes fixed on the football as it falls towards him. “Girls love stuff like that. You want her to not hate you, right?”

“Yeah, yeah,” mutters John.

“Okay – and also put that she’ll always be your first love even if she won’t be your last.”

“Oh, come on.”

“She’ll like it; trust me.” Jesse sort of likes it, because he likes poetic stuff like that, and he suspects John sort of likes it too, but neither would ever admit to it.

“You’ll always care for her, but as a friend now; not anything more.” Jesse wonders what it would be like to be friends with Annie. They’d been in the same group, but they’d rarely been alone together or even just talked. “You’re sure she doesn’t want to see you, but she should know that you’ll always be there for her if she ever needs anything.”

John catches up with Jesse’s words and then stops and looks over the letter. “I think that should be good,” he says, glancing at Jesse for confirmation. Jesse nods, and John lifts the pen again, but hesitates. “How do I sign it?” he asks. “‘Love’?”

Jesse pauses, clutching the little football too tightly to be natural. “‘Love’,” he agrees.

**_November to remember._ **

“Jesse Lacey?”

Jesse had been craving Chinese food all day, so he’d stopped at Six Happiness on his way home. He hears his name just as he finishes ordering, still facing the counter and kitchen, and doesn’t immediately recognize the voice. He turns and sees: It’s none other than Judy Z.

Judy had been something of a mythical creature at their high school, and not simply because of her famously unpronounceable Polish surname. She was easily the most popular girl in school. Everyone loved her and she was friends with everyone, but no one could claim to be close with Judy. She flitted from group to group, always a much-welcomed addition, and occasionally brought along mysterious friends from other schools who consistently disdained interaction with any of her classmates.

Six Happiness is too small to eat in, but there are chairs arranged against two of the walls and it is in one of these that Judy sits, her mouth stretched into a friendly smile. “I thought that was you!” she says.

“Hey Judy,” says Jesse, genuinely glad to see her.

“Come sit by me,” she says, patting the chair next to her; Jesse sits. “So what’s a guy like you doing in a place like this?” she asks playfully, her brown eyes flashing.

“Uh, you know, Chinese food,” Jesse says with a shrug. It’s hard to be witty around Judy; her presence is overwhelming.

Judy laughs. “I should’ve guessed. I’m just picking some up and then I’m going over to my friend Devin’s house. Have I ever introduced you to Devin?”

“Um, I don’t think so,” Jesse says.

“He’s really great. You would love him, actually. He’s so funny! Oh, but anyway. So how are you? How’s college?”

“It’s…it’s okay,” says Jesse. “I don’t know… I might not go back next semester. I’m not sure.”

“Mmm,” says Judy, nodding wisely. “Yeah, I always thought you were too smart for college.”

Jesse isn’t really sure what that means, so he just laughs a little and asks, “What about you? How’s NYU?”

“It’s _amazing_ ,” says Judy, and Jesse believes her. “I’m having so much fun. And I’m meeting all these really interesting people. My roommate got a full-length novel published when she was fifteen, can you believe that? Everyone’s so nice. And living in the city is really great.”

“Yeah, sure,” says Jesse. He decides not to express his jealousy; it’s too pathetic.

“I can’t believe how long it’s been since I’ve seen you,” Judy says. “Not since graduation, I think. No! It was Kurt’s party. Remember? That was so much fun.”

Jesse nods. What he remembers about Kurt’s party is that he is eighty-percent sure John and Annie had sex in one of the bedrooms upstairs.

“So how’s the Island been doing? How is everyone? How’s John?”

“He’s good,” says Jesse, clearing his throat. “He’s not really nuts about college either – but, you know, everyone’s good, I guess.”

“Yeah,” says Judy. “Oh, hey, is he still dating Annie?”

“Um – no,” says Jesse, a flush creeping up his neck. “No, they broke up at the end of the summer.”

“Mmm. Yeah, I thought so,” says Judy. “That was a really high school kind of relationship, you know?” The look in her eyes is much too meaningful for Jesse’s comfort. He grunts in response. “It all seems so far away, now, doesn’t it?” Judy asks.

It doesn’t; not to Jesse. Most of the time it feels like yesterday.

“All that petty drama,” Judy says. “But that’s not fair; some of it was fun. Remember when we tried to get them to let us have a homecoming king and queen? That was right around now last year, isn’t that crazy?”

The administration had felt that homecoming royalty would promote jealousy and rivalry and detract from school spirit, but their class had lobbied hard to have elections for a court in their senior year; they’d covered the freshman lockers with a massive banner and staged a sit-in outside the principal’s office. Everyone said John and Annie should run for king and queen, but Annie had blushed and smiled that smile that shows her dimple and said she’d rather die.

“God, look at me; getting all nostalgic,” says Judy. “I was so happy to get the hell out of there.”

“Yeah, same here,” says Jesse.

“I think Annie was like that too, you know?” says Judy. “She’s a Long Island girl at heart, though.”

Horrified, Jesse manages to choke out a murmur of acknowledgment. Why is Judy talking about Annie? What’s she getting at? Is it possible she _knows_?

And all at once Jesse is certain that she does. For years he’d been constantly worrying that John knew, that their friends could tell – but _Judy Z._? How could she possibly know? Was he really that obvious? Did everyone know? Did they all laugh at him behind his back; stupid Jesse with his hopeless crush –?

The man behind the counter calls out, “Judy Zee?” through a thick accent.

“Oh, that’s me,” Judy says, standing. “Well, it was great to bump into you! We should definitely hang out. I’ll see you later, okay?”

“Okay,” says Jesse as she collects her order. “Bye.”

He stares numbly at the drink display on the opposite wall until his food is ready.

**_Nightswimmers._ **

“This is so fucking _dumb_ ,” Jesse moans. He’s the amount of drunk that makes him tired and irritable.

John just laughs; he’s the amount of drunk that makes everything fun. “No, it’s going to be great!” he says with childlike excitement.

Jesse first heard about the idea a week ago, right before Christmas: the 516 Polar Bear Club. Twenty-five or younger; underwear or naked; New Year’s Day at two in the morning. It’s not like the people who will rush into the ocean at Coney Island hours after them – they aren’t doing it for charity, or anything. It’s more like a collective dare. The whole thing spread by word-of-mouth; no one is sure who came up with it, but it seems like everyone Jesse knows is going.

The beach is crowded with people; more than Jesse’s ever seen there at night. Where there aren’t people there are piles of clothes in their place. Since no one is in charge, everyone goes in when they want instead of all as one group; some are already coming out, soaked and shivering, when Jesse and John arrive.

They stand for a few minutes watching and waving to people they know. Jesse fiddles with the zipper of his coat, unwilling to open it. He tries to decide whether it would be better to strip down slowly, so his body can get used to the temperature, or to just get it over with as fast as possible. Not that he’s going to strip _all_ the way down – there is absolutely no way he’s giving half of Long Island a view of his junk all shriveled up from the cold –

He spots a girl: shiny black hair and narrow shoulders. Tina. She’s a little younger than them; she used to hang out with their group, but he hasn’t really seen her since the summer. Jesse recognizes the guy she’s with, too: It’s one of the Tierney twins, though he can’t tell which. Tina and the lanky boy hold hands as they run for the dark ocean waters.

And Jesse scans the area where they’ve left their clothes, looking for the other twin, because he still gets a kick out of that: two people who look exactly the same – and he sees him, the other Tierney, and who he’s with, and his heart sinks into the acidic pit of his stomach. It’s Annie.

She’s laughing and swearing and shouting and Jesse can’t tear his eyes away even though he knows he should; out of decency and out of secrecy and out kindness for the Jesse who will make himself sick replaying this in his head. First she undoes the buttons on her coat; takes that off. A necklace goes into the pocket. Then her shoes come off. Then a thick pair of tights. Then a flimsy little sweater. And then she pulls down a zipper on the side of her dress, pushes the straps over her arms, slides the fabric down her hips, and lets the dress fall to the ground. For a second she just stands there in the moonlight, pale skin and a black bra and black underwear, and Jesse feels a wave of guilt even though he hasn’t jacked off thinking about it yet, because he knows he will.

Annie doesn’t take the twin’s hand; she doesn’t touch him at all. She makes a face – scared and excited – and says something to him, and shakes her head so her hair flutters, and laughs, and then runs off ahead of him to the ocean, and he laughs too, and follows.

“Come on dude, let’s just fucking do it!” says John, struggling with his belt buckle. Jesse curls his lip and walks a few feet away, and for a second he thinks he’s going to leave; that he will just go home and crawl into bed and wish he was dead or different, but then he takes off his coat. He’ll make sure she doesn’t see him, and that he doesn’t see her.

**_Collar weekend._ **

Jesse notices her before she notices him, and he thinks maybe she’ll just pass him by, but he looks at her too long and she meets his eyes and then they have to stop and acknowledge each other.

“Hey Lacey,” Annie says. “Fancy meeting you here.”

There are seven and a half million people in New York City, but somehow Jesse has managed to cross paths with Annie. She doesn’t even live in this state most of the time.

“Hi,” he says. “Um… Aren’t you supposed to be in Boston?” It’s sort of rude but it’s all he can think to say.

Annie laughs; her fake laugh. “I took the Chinatown bus down for the weekend – I’m doing these interviews for summer internships.”

It’s then that Jesse notices how Annie is dressed: a knee-length skirt and a business-type blouse peeking out from an open trench coat. She looks like a grown-up.

_This is how it’ll be_ , Jesse thinks. When they’re grown-ups for real. They almost could be, except that under his jacket Jesse’s wearing his ratty baseball shirt with the hole in the hem and the frayed collar. But this is pretty much how it’ll be. Polite chats when they cross paths.

“Sounds exciting,” Jesse says dully.

“Yeah,” says Annie with a shrug. “What about you? I heard you’re in a band?”

“The Rookie Lot,” says Jesse.

“Right,” says Annie. “With Garrett Tierney?”

“Yeah.” Jesse shifts his weight anxiously.

“Yeah, I know him. His brother dated my friend for a while. He’s a nice kid. Tell him I said hi, okay?”

Jesse definitely will not do that. “Sure,” he says.

“So…how’s John?”

Of course she asks that. Of course she does. “He’s good,” says Jesse. “You know.”

“Yeah,” Annie says.

“Um,” says Jesse. “About that party last summer, what John said to you –” Although the letter had won John a brief but kind phone call from Annie, he’d lost his good standing when he’d shown up drunk to a party Annie was at and yelled at her in front of a huge group of people. Jesse tries to swallow the lump in his throat. “I just wanted to apologize.”

“Oh,” says Annie quickly, “no, don’t worry about that. John came over the day after and explained everything; that fight he had with his dad – and he apologized. And he spent like twenty minutes talking to my cousin about video games. We’re fine now. I even went to some of his shows over the summer; I think you were there –”

Jesse had been there, but he’d been careful to avoid Annie. “Yeah,” he says. “I know, but… I wanted to apologize for me. I saw how he was when he came – I shouldn’t have let him go near you.”

And Annie looks touched; genuinely touched, and it feels like Jesse’s heart is going to beat out of his chest and fly away.

“Well, thanks,” Annie says. A delicate blush is spreading across her cheeks. “But really, don’t worry about it.”

Their conversation is about to end, and Jesse can’t stand it. He’s an addict; he knows it’s bad for him, that it makes everything worse; but looking at Annie, being near her, he can’t bring himself to leave.

“Yeah, well,” he says. “Summer internships, huh? What kind?”

Annie launches into a description of the several positions for which she’s applied – working in museums and historical societies and at magazines – and Jesse wishes there were more of him, so he could listen to her and watch her lips and take in her hair and appreciate her legs all at the same time.

He is mildly surprised that she is allowing him this time with her. _She doesn’t know_ , a voice in Jesse’s head says quietly. _She doesn’t know what it’s like. She’s never been in love with anyone the way I’m in love with her._

Jesse feels a momentary surge of triumph, to be in this one way superior to Annie – and then he is seized with fear. What if she _never_ knows? Jesse has come to assume that there is no one out there whom he could love the way he loves Annie, but what if it’s the same for her – what if she can never love anyone as much as she could love Jesse, except she never loved Jesse in the first place? What if she is doomed forever to the shallow relationships like Jesse has with other girls?

“I’ve got to get going, though,” she says. “I’ll see you around?”

“Yeah,” says Jesse. “Good seeing you.”

And she smiles; a real, honest smile – and her whole face lights up; she _glows_. It is absolutely ridiculous that a human being is capable of radiating such happiness; that Jesse can feel the warmth of her pleasure as if it were his own. He wonders if other people feel like this when she smiles, or just him.

“Okay, well, bye!” she says, and she walks past him.

**_Appearance ticket._ **

“Vin, you were _amazing_!”

Jesse doesn’t look at Annie and Vinnie as he walks by them, but he can’t turn off his hearing. They are loading their gear back into the van now that the show is over, but Annie has caught up with her cousin and Vinnie has stopped working to speak to her. If anyone asks, Jesse has already planned to give this as reason for his irritation: that Vinnie didn’t do his fair share.

Again Jesse refuses to look at them as he walks to the door from the van. He hears Annie asking, “When did you get to be this amazing grown-up guitar-player-person? How did this even happen?”

Once he’s back in the club, Jesse slows his pace. He messes with his guitar for a long while before finally carrying the case to the van.

Annie and Vinnie are still talking. Jesse thinks he might feel Annie’s eyes on him as he passes but it’s probably wishful thinking. He lingers in the van; shifts things around a few times to keep busy.

“Hey, is there still a pack of gum on the dash?”

Jesse jumps, startled by Vinnie’s voice. The younger boy watches him from the side doorway. Without a word, Jesse moves past the front seat in an awkward crouch, takes the pack of Wrigley’s, and passes it over to Vinnie, who unwraps a piece and pops it in his mouth. “You going to stay in there?” he asks.

Begrudgingly, Jesse climbs out of the vehicle. He doesn’t like this side of Vin. The side that noticed the way Jesse acted when Vinnie and Brian and Garrett started talking about how they all knew Annie after Brand New’s second practice. The side that forced Jesse to admit a version of the truth – a crush on Annie; just a nothing high school crush. The side that Jesse suspects knows the real truth; knows the ache and the longing and the self-reproach.

And Jesse actually likes Vinnie – well, the Vinnie who never mentions Annie or hints that he knows Jesse’s secret, which is usually the Vinnie who’s around. But tonight the guitarist has sharp eyes and assertive posture.

Annie is talking to Garrett. As Jesse watches, he puts his hands in his back pockets, laughing and adjusting his stance. Annie’s head is tilted up to meet his eyes and she is laughing, too. Jesse hates that anyone gets to be that comfortable around her.

Brian and Vinnie migrate over to Annie and Garrett, and Jesse trails along, trying to act natural against all odds. The five of them stand around talking about the show and Annie makes general compliments now, which is nice because Jesse can pretend she means him too. And maybe she does.

It’s too light in this parking lot. It’s supposed to be nighttime; he shouldn’t be able to see her this clearly.

“So what’s going on?” Brian asks. “We going or what?”

“Yeah, let’s go,” says Garrett. “Matt’s having that thing.”

“Are you coming?” Vinnie asks Annie.

Jesse bites the inside of his lip, _hold it together_.

“No, I’m going home,” she says. “I can’t keep up with you wild youths,” she adds with a silly face.

“Us hoodlums,” Brian agrees, digging through his pocket for the keys.

“Okay, well –” Vinnie stops short, clearly making a decision; he gives Annie a significant look.

_He’s going to go with her_ , Jesse thinks. _He’ll go with her and they’ll talk about me, what an idiot I am; they’ll stay up all night laughing about me_ –

“Um, I’ll see you, I guess,” Vinnie says to Annie.

“Yeah, I mean, I’m home for at least the next few weeks. I’ll call you,” she says. She hugs him briefly, then swats his arm and sticks a finger in his face. “Stop being so tall,” Annie says. “You’re my little cousin.”

Vinnie laughs. “I’ll try.”

“All right, bye guys!” says Annie, waving broadly at Brian, Garrett, and Jesse. The drummer and bassist nod and say goodbye, and Jesse mutters inconsequentially as Annie leaves.

He thought he was doing better. It really felt like he was. But Annie has a way of turning him back into that dizzy adolescent who fell in love with an English essay.

**_Watch her from the roof as she walks across her backyard…_ **

John told him to just come in and go right up to his room when he came over, so Jesse does.

“Last one. It’s almost finished,” says John. He motions to his dual-cassette stereo; both tape-decks are making that _whirr_ ing sound. John is copying tapes for Jesse; the biennial Lacey family road trip – a tour of relatives in New England – is coming up, and Jesse is anticipating a desperate need to drown out the sounds of a car ride with his siblings. John always has more music than him.

Jesse stands near the stereo while John sits at his desk, scribbling titles onto cardboard inserts. Sensing some movement out of the corner of his eye, Jesse glances out the window into John’s backyard. Annie is standing at the fence talking to the Nolans’ neighbor as Jesse has often seen John’s mother do.

He knows it would be better not to say anything, and he knows he could stop himself if he really wanted to, but he doesn’t _really_ want to; he wants that bitter moment, that moment of pain. “Ann still here?” he asks. His tongue always fumbles with the last syllable of her name; it’s too intimate, somehow. John is allowed to say it but he calls her ‘Ann’ a lot of the time anyway.

“Yeah,” says John, looking up. Jesse knows his friend is gauging his reaction, but he is able to keep his face blank. He’s been practicing. “My parents are coming home tomorrow, so, you know…making the most of the time we have left.”

Jesse knows he’s supposed to chuckle and say, “Yeah,” knowingly; but it’s too much, so he just gives the most approving grunt he can manage. He can’t bear to look at John’s bed.

His eyes drift back to the window, because even though it will hurt in the long run, it’s good now; right now it’s nice to look at her and that’s all he cares about; right now. Hair glowing in the sunlight and long, smooth legs. She’s finished talking to the neighbor; Jesse’s eyes follow her as she crosses the lawn on bare feet until she disappears under the eave of the roof. A second later the back door opens and she comes inside.

“John Boy, did you know Carole Rosalito has wild strawberries growing in her backyard?” Annie calls. “They’re _sooo_ good! And so cute and _little_ , come eat them with me!”

**_now go cry in your car._ **

It isn’t fair that fate doesn’t work the way everyone says it does. Fate doesn’t mean something _happens_ ; just that it’s _supposed_ to happen. The difference is Jesse sitting in his car in front of John’s house, unable to move.

Jesse knows he and Annie are right for each other. He knows it. He can feel it. They are _supposed_ to be together – but they’re not. They aren’t and they never will be – _never ever ever_ , he repeats to himself again and again – and it’s Jesse’s fault. It has to be. Jesse knows Annie is perfect for him, but Annie doesn’t think the same of Jesse. That means there must be something wrong with _him_ , not her. He has somehow deviated from the course intended for him; he has become flawed in some way that makes him unworthy of Annie.

Sometimes Jesse thinks maybe it _is_ Annie; maybe she’s lying to herself; hiding her feelings – but that still makes it his fault, at least partially, because why would she do that if there isn’t anything wrong with him? They aren’t exactly Romeo and Juliet. There’s nothing standing between their relationship but Annie’s lack of interest in Jesse.

And now John stands between it, too. John’s friendship with Jesse; John’s relationship with Annie. Even if Annie wakes up and decides Jesse is alright after all, he’s still the best friend of the guy she lost her virginity to. An utterly unforgivable fault.

_Just let it go_. It feels like he never will. It feels like it will never get better. He’ll be that guy, that pathetic guy who’s never happy with anybody because he’s hung up on some stupid girl he met when he was fourteen. He can’t even be happy that Annie’s happy; he’s too selfish.

It’s dumb and just high school and puppy love and it’s the rest of his life and it’s every girl he’ll ever meet and it’s Annie crying in his arms on prom night. How every little thing reminds him of her, how her eyes look when she’s happy, how he can consider himself cursed and lucky at the same time. At least he’s felt it, felt this thing that claws up his insides, because he knows enough about life to know that not everyone does and that the ones who do are the ones who write sonnets and symphonies. And maybe it’s better to have normalcy and suburbia and peace than to have that incredible moment of pure and perfect happiness, that moment of knowing that you’re in love with someone as much as anyone ever can be, as much as a heart can hold without bursting; but he’s had it now and he wouldn’t give it up if he could.

And he can’t.

**_You’re just jealous ’cause I’m young and in love._**


End file.
